Man To Man
by LarielRomeniel
Summary: Leonard asks Quentin for a meeting. It's not exactly what Quentin expected. Part of my "Waiting Room" AU that started with "Worth The Wait" and continued with "Kissing Lessons." Read those first.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is going to be a bit domestic. But one of the things I love about the Arrowverse is that they **do** domestic; it's not all "smash-pow-oof!"

This is part of my "Waiting Room" AU that started with "Worth The Wait" and continued with "Kissing Lessons." Read those first. This story gives us a little of Younger!Len on his way to becoming Older!Len.

As always, the characters belong to DC Entertainment and I earn nothing from this. Darn it.

* * *

"Thanks for meeting me here," Len said as the waitress put two bottles on the table. It was past three-martini lunchtime and still too early for happy hour, so the bar was fairly empty and quiet.

Quentin Lance reached for the smaller of the bottles. "Not like I have much else to do without a job. At least I got to keep my pension." He took a sip and grimaced. "Whoever said this near beer tastes like the real stuff must have had their taste buds surgically removed."

"I can get you something else," Len offered.

Quentin shook his head. "Nah. This is as close as a recovering alcoholic can get to a good stiff drink, and let me tell you, when your daughter's boyfriend asks for a meeting, you want a good stiff drink."

At the word "boyfriend," Len grimaced himself. Quentin noticed it and smirked. "I know you don't like that word," he said. "But I get the feeling you're here to ask me about a promotion." He held up a hand as Len began to open his mouth. "I got something to say first."

Len nodded. Both men took a drink while Quentin considered his next words. After a long moment, Quentin said, "Every father has hopes and dreams for his children. Expectations." He met Len's eyes and conceded, "Okay, most fathers do. I know yours is… _was_ an exception."

He took another swallow of the awful stuff in his bottle. "Now, Sara managed to defy every single expectation. I mean, what father could ever expect his daughter to become a professional assassin and vigilante? And then go fall in love with a professional crook, who happens to kill other bad guys on the side?" He laughed a little. "It's not exactly the kind of stuff you put in your annual Christmas newsletter, you know?"

Len merely shrugged. "Yeah, maybe you wouldn't know," Quentin said. He looked down at his bottle. "I don't know if I'm even making any sense here. But I've gotta tell you… Sara… Sara had a thing for the wild side even before the Gambit. A bit of a dark streak. And after the Lazarus Pit, it just got darker." He took another drink. "But since she met you, she's changed again. Still with the wild side, but not so dark."

He met Len's eyes again. "You are just about the last person in the world I'd have expected to be good for her. But you _are_ good for her. She's a better person since she met you. So, if you want to marry her, you've got my blessing."

Len put his bottle down. "I appreciate you saying that. But that's not actually the reason I wanted to talk to you."

Quentin frowned. "You mean you don't want to marry Sara?" he asked.

"I didn't say that," Len said, putting his hands up in a quelling motion. "I admit, I never thought of myself as the marrying kind. Not until I got stuck in the time stream. Sara told you about that, didn't she?"

"She told me you saw alternate realities that gave you nightmares for weeks."

Len nodded. "Yeah. But I also saw other worlds, other realities where Sara and I had a life together. Where we were happy, in a way I've never been in my life. When I saw that, I wanted it, more than anything else I've ever wanted." Len's voice had lost some of its customary curtness. "So tonight, I'm asking her to marry me. But I wasn't going to ask for your blessing." He leaned forward. "You and I both know Sara does what she wants, when she wants, no matter what either of us thinks about it."

Quentin chuckled at that. "Isn't that the truth. To my strong-willed baby girl." He raised his bottle to Len, who clinked it against his own. "So, why _did_ you want to talk to me?"

Len took a long swig from his bottle, then set it down and wiped his mouth. "This is going to take a bit of explaining. I know that you know my record, and who I used to be. Who I _had_ to be to survive."

He looked down at his hands. "When Mick and I went aboard the Waverider, we weren't really interested in saving the world. We were going out of pure self-interest, because we didn't know any other way. But Sara… Sara talked about changing our own destinies, and that got me thinking that there might be some other way."

He flicked his eyes back up to Quentin. "As the mission went on, she made me want to find that other way. The others… the professor, Ray… they helped. But Sara made _me_ a better person. The old Leonard Snart was dead even before I went to the Vanishing Point. I just didn't know it until I stuck my hands into that stupid device."

He paused, searching for words, and let out a long huff of air. "Now I think _I'm_ the one who's not making much sense. I'm not used to… this." He waved his hand between the two of them before leaning back in his seat, staring at his bottle.

Quentin leaned back as well. "Take your time, son." He meant the word merely as a figure of speech, and was surprised by the way Len straightened up when he heard it. The younger man looked up toward the ceiling for a moment, thinking, then met Quentin's eyes again.

"All right. Bear with me on this," Len said, taking a deep breath. "I know it's traditional for a woman to take her husband's name. But Sara and I aren't exactly traditional."

"That's putting it mildly," Quentin agreed.

Len nodded in acknowledgment. "And even if we were, I don't want to saddle her with 'Snart.'" Len said the name with distaste. Quentin chuckled, and Len continued, "I don't want to saddle our kids with that name either."

Now it was Quentin's turn to straighten up. "Never thought you'd want to do family."

Len smiled slightly. "I raised my sister, remember? Lisa was the bright spot in my otherwise miserable adolescence. Taking care of her made me happy. So I _do_ want to do family, but I want to do it right this time. And Sara would make sure I got it right."

"I think you can count on that." Quentin took another swallow, not really noticing the taste any more. "You don't need to talk to me about giving me grandkids. That's between you and Sara. So what are you leading up to?"

The younger man drank down one more long swallow of his beer, then set the bottle down and took a deep breath. He leaned in toward Quentin and said quietly, "Family should share a name. But like I said, I don't want Sara taking my name. I want to take hers instead."

Quentin leaned back again and just stared at the other man, who held his eyes with no hint of a joke. Finally he said, "You're just full of surprises today. "

Len gave him a slow nod. "I said the old Leonard Snart died. And it's time to let the Snart name die too. It's the only thing I have of my old man, and I don't want it."

"Your sister will still have the name."

"Not for much longer, if Cisco gets his head out of his ass," Len said with a bit of a laugh. "Lisa plans to be a traditionalist, if only to get rid of the name."

Quentin chuckled, just for a moment. Then he said, "Leonard Lance. Gotta admit, it sounds good."

"So you're okay with it?"

Quentin finished off his drink. "I always wanted a son. I just thought he'd be a _lot_ younger than me instead of only a little younger," he answered with a grin.

Len laughed. "We can do a lot with time travel but I don't think we can fix that. Sorry."

Quentin waved it off. "I'm learning to never say never." He extended a hand to Len. "Yeah, I'm okay with it. _Son_."

Len reached over and clasped Quentin's outstretched hand. "Thanks." They held the handshake for a long moment, the former crook and the former cop, bound by the woman they both loved. Then Len leaned back again. "Another round? You can get something better than that crap you were drinking. Even if it is non-alcoholic."

Quentin's smile got wider as he motioned to the waitress. "Ah, I'm getting used to it," he said. The woman put two more bottles on the table. "So, how are you gonna ask her? Ring, down on one knee, the whole nine yards?"

Len just smiled and started on his fresh beer.


End file.
